


In Sickness and In Health

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Fever, M/M, Mercutio being a good boyfriend, Sickfic, Vomiting, sick cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Benvolio gets sick, Mercutio takes it upon himself to play nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and In Health

His cousin had been staring at the same spot on the wall across the room for the past ten minutes; and even though it was Benvolio, who could be strange as anything sometimes, Romeo was growing concerned.

“Hey.” He nudged the darker-haired boy in the shoulder, and Benvolio abruptly looked up at him; blinking wide, hazel eyes, his face expressed his bewilderment. Romeo frowned.

“Are you alright? You seem lost in space.”

“Eh? I do?” Benvolio frowned, glancing down at the book in his lap that he had been trying to read; it didn’t escape Romeo’s notice the way his cousin winced slightly and doubled in on himself a bit, as if suddenly being overtaken by some sort of pain. “I’m fine,” he replied, shaking his head as if to clear it and then all at once drawing himself to his feet. “Just thinking a lot. But you’re right, maybe I am a bit tired.”

“Go lie down,” Romeo suggested, still concerned over the state of his cousin, and Benvolio nodded. He muttered a quiet apology for leaving him so abruptly and immediately made his way off to his room; Romeo frowned, staring after him for a long moment before returning to the book in his own lap. He couldn’t help but wonder if Benvolio was just being strange, or if there was indeed something more serious going on with his cousin.

xXx

The moment Benvolio opened his eyes, he knew he was in trouble. The cramps in his stomach seemed to have doubled in intensity, causing him to groan and curl in on himself even more, and his bedroom felt hot and cold all at once. His entire body was drenched with sweat; he didn’t doubt that he had a fever.

Had he fallen asleep? His eyes flickered towards the book that lay a few inches away from his head; _passed out_ was the more accurate term, after having retired to his bed with a book and a slight stomachache. That had been at least a few hours earlier; it was obvious now that he was sick.

Unless he missed dinner he doubted his aunt or uncle would notice his absence, nor any of the help around the large Montague mansion. His throat felt dry and burned like fire; he needed water. How long would it take for Romeo to get concerned enough to come check on him? Knowing his dreamy cousin, Benvolio realized that it could take even longer than his aunt. He definitely couldn’t walk; the pain pulsing through both his head and abdomen made sure of that, and when he glanced around the room, it spun.

He lay on the bed for a few minutes, shivering and panting for breath; but the nausea that was steadily rising in his stomach decreed that he would have to be moving soon, whether he wanted to or not.

No way was Benvolio going to throw up all over his new bedsheets. Painstakingly, and trembling violently as he did so, he managed to push himself into a sitting position and promptly groaned at the pains that rocketed through his body. He didn’t want to persevere, but he forced himself to do so anyway; he swung his legs over the side of the bed and, despite immense dizziness, somehow managed to find his way to his feet.

The bathroom was just down the hall. His mind fixed on his destination as he stumbled out of the room, leaning heavily against the wall to keep from falling over either from fever or pain. The sick feeling in his gut was quickly growing more intense. He felt awful; even worse than he had the one time he had gotten the stomach bug at age nine. Benvolio stumbled once over his own feet, and nearly toppled; that was the point of no return. Instinct told him at that moment that he only had a few seconds before it was all over.

He hadn’t been paying attention; his fever-clouded mind was so disoriented that he hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone until he walked directly into someone’s firm chest.

“Benvolio?”

The voice was familiar; Benvolio felt like collapsing in relief as he felt Mercutio’s hands on his shoulders, his hair being smoothed away from his burning forehead. He leaned heavily against the other boy, and Mercutio’s arms supported him with care. In that moment, Benvolio wished he could be allowed to stay in the safety of Mercutio’s grip forever.

Unfortunately, his body seemed to have other ideas.

“Mer- Mercu-”

He turned and heaved, and suddenly the lunch he had eaten that afternoon was all too visible right in front of him- as well as on his aunt’s ornate carpet. Ohh, was he _ever_ going to be in trouble when she saw that.

He heard Mercutio swear, and all of a sudden they were moving; he realized he was being ushered to the bathroom, and it was a good thing too for not even a few seconds after reaching the toilet another wave of nausea surged within him and he found himself losing his breakfast as well. Mercutio was right with him, patting his back soothingly and smoothing sweat drenched hair from his face. “It’s alright, Ben,” the golden haired boy muttered from behind him, his voice even and soothing. “Let it out.”

Benvolio did- actually, he couldn’t seem to stop letting it out, and when his body finally appeared to be done with expelling every toxin and its uncle from his body he slumped heavily against the porcelain throne, his head slowly drifting down to rest against his shoulder.

Mercutio wasn’t having it. “Come on,” he urged, pulling on the other boy gently. “You must get to bed. You’re sick.”

Benvolio groaned, the combination of the cramping in his stomach (which had lessened slightly, but barely), the fever, and sheer exhaustion leaving him with the strong desire to remain exactly where he was for a very long time. Besides, there was no question in his mind that even if he wanted to follow Mercutio back to his bedroom he wouldn’t be able to walk.

Mercutio, blessedly perceptive as he could at times be, seemed to sense this; with barely a sigh he reached down and easily scooped the thin boy up, supporting his back and his legs. The momentary shock of being picked up by his best friend like a ragdoll conveniently distracted Benvolio from his discomfort; Mercutio carried the other boy back to bed with nary a complaint on the Montague’s part.

“You don’t have to do this,” Benvolio sighed once he had finally been laid back in the welcome comfort of his slight sweat-dampened sheets. His conscience weighed heavily on him; he didn’t like being taken care of, nor being a bother to anyone.

“Be quiet, Ben,” Mercutio muttered, rolling his eyes and pulling the blankets up to the teen’s chin. “Does your family know you’re sick?” At the shake of head Benvolio offered, Mercutio snorted. “Surprise, surprise. I’ll go play the page and bear the bad news; there’s a bowl on your bedside table, so if you feel sick again use that. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Benvolio nodded weakly, already feeling himself sinking back into the welcome sleep of exhaustion. He despised being a burden on others; but as long as Mercutio was here, he mused, maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible.

xXx

Mercutio was a far better caretaker than Benvolio- or anyone else- would have given him credit for. “I’ve always played nurse to Val when he’s feeling rotten,” he offered as an explanation. “You should see my uncle when we get sick, he goes absolutely berserk.”

He stayed up with Benvolio all that night, even after his aunt- who did so hate to see her boys sick, and was as worried as any of them when she heard the news- had gone to bed. Until morning he busied himself trying to keep Benvolio’s fever down and soothing him whenever his stomach got the better of him once more. 

By dawn, Benvolio was exhausted; it was clear that Mercutio was feeling the same weariness. His head hung heavy, slowly lolling against his shoulder as he leaned back in the chair by Benvolio’s bedside; when the sick boy shifted, however, Mercutio sat up rod-straight.

“You need to sleep,” Benvolio rasped, his throat dry and burning. Mercutio wasted no time in handing him a glass of water, which Benvolio sipped cautiously.

“So do you. You’re the sick one.”

“I’m fine. You’ve got to stay healthy.” Benvolio considered the plastic chair for a second before frowning. “And you shouldn’t be sleeping in a chair like that, you’ll hurt your back.”

Mercutio let out a chuckle, and Benvolio glanced up at him in confusion. “Sick as a dog,” he muttered, “and the loyal canine still cares about the wolf.”

Benvolio rolled his eyes, used to Mercutio’s tricks of the tongue enough by now that he didn’t even bother to question it. Instead he forced himself to sit up slightly, and like a child held out both of his arms towards his blond friend. Mercutio froze up, staring at him in bafflement.

“Umm… Benvolio…”

“I get clingy when I’m sick,” the other boy muttered. “Humor me.”

Mercutio was certainly far less used to humoring Benvolio than the Montague was at putting up with his antics; but with Benvolio feverish and ailing, it was hardly as if he could say no to whatever he wanted. Still, this was a bit more bizarre than he was used to… “You want to snuggle?”

“Always,” replied Benvolio promptly, despite the evident weariness in his voice. “You’re the only one here, unfortunately, so I’ll have to make do with you.”

Mercutio sighed, but Benvolio was just stubborn enough and Mercutio just obliging enough that the prince’s nephew willingly climbed into bed next to him. Benvolio’s body was burning; Mercutio muttered a curse at the feverish heat radiating from his skin, made only more evident when Benvolio leaned over and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders, resting his head against Mercutio’s firm chest.

Mercutio’s eyes were wide. “Uhh… Ben?”

There was no reply.

“Benvolio?”

The feverish boy’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his eyes shut and face peaceful.

“Okay, you are not asleep. No one falls asleep that easily, _wake up Benvolio-”_

“Shhhhh.” Benvolio reached out a hand, accidentally smacking Mercutio in the face as he tried to cover his mouth. “Cutio… shut up and go to sleep.”

Mercutio blinked down at the sick boy for a few moments before tentatively he allowed himself to relax against the mattress; Benvolio’s head was heavy, but it was a pleasant weight, altogether intimate and so utterly safe that for a moment Mercutio could hardly believe that this was actually happening.

_Damn it… why does he have to be so adorable even when he’s sick?_

In the end, Mercutio allowed himself to relax fully, and his eyes slowly slipped shut. The next morning, Benvolio’s fever had broken; Lady Montague entered her nephew’s room to find Benvolio and Mercutio curled up side by side, Mercutio now sporting a temperature of his own, but slumbering peacefully with his friend wrapped around him. Lady Montague smiled to herself; she adjusted the blankets, left a new glass of water on the bedside table, and allowed the door to close behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Humour me in my weakness for sickfic and especially sick cuddling. I'm publishing this instead of writing anything new. Procrastination central, right here.


End file.
